christmas stories from grandma's attic

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#Chariot BooksA Division of Cook Communications

Presented to

on

by

o the wonderfulpeople

who have worked over the years

to make the Grandma 's Attic Series

so successful:

• My editors, Cathy Davis and LoraBeth Norton;

• Robert Thomas, who has typed and retyped,

and Phyllis Thomas,

who hasfaithfullyproofread all thesepages;

• and all the staffof the children 's book division at

David C Cook, who have been so helpful and caring

over the years.

I deeply appreciate all ofyou.

I could never have done it alone!

Chariot Books™ is an imprint of David C. Cook Publishing Co.

David C. Cook Publishing Co., Elgin, Illinois 60120

David C. Cook Publishing Co., Weston, Ontario

Nova Distribution Ltd., Torquay, England

CHRISTMAS STORIES FROM GRANDMA'S ATTIC

© 1991 by Arleta Richardson for the text and Kathy Kulin-Sandel for the illustrations.

All right reserved. Except for brief excerpts for review purposes, no part of this book

may be reproduced or used in any form without written permission from the publisher.

Cover design by Donna Nelson

Interior design by Rick Schroeppel

Illustrations by Kathy Kulin-Sandel

First printing, 1991

First paperback printing, 1994

Printed in the United States of America

98 97 96 95 94 1 2 3 4 5

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

Richardson, Arleta.

Christmas stories from grandma's attic / by Arleta Richardson.

p. cm.

"Chariot books."

Summarv: Grandma Mabel relates the events of many past Christmases.

ISBN 1-55513-723-7

[1. Christmas—Fiction. 2. Family life—Fiction. 3- Christian life—Fiction.] I. Title.

PZ7.R3942Ch 1991

[Fie]—dc20

91-15755

CIP

AC

Cranberries and Popcorn 7

A Lessonfrom an Angel 9

Quarantined Christmas 15

Christmas Spirit 19

North Branch Gives Away Christmas 27

A Different Christmas 33

The Gift That Kept on Giving 41

The Acme Queen Parlor Organ 45

Clare's Christmas Faith 51

Onalee 59

Field Day 63

Aunt Beat's Forgotten Christmas 71

Grandma 's Christmas Cake 77

Cranberriesand

Popcorn

<&.here is something comforting about the traditions of

Christmas. Every year we are ready for carols, candles, bells,

angels, and mistletoe. The tree decorations look new when they

are unwrapped, even though some of them have been chewedon by three generations of babies.

We enjoy the same old stories, too. Just let someone say,

"Marley was dead, to begin with. There was no doubt whatever

about that," and there is no doubt that Charles Dickens is

among us. Or hear, "And it came to pass in those days that a

decree went out from Caesar Augustus . . .," and we know that

Luke is going to tell us the greatest story of all.

The human mind has a remarkable ability, both gratifying

and horrifying, to relive a scene from years gone by, complete

with sight, sound, and smell. Almost anyone you ask can come


up with a story about a special Christmas. See how your mindzeroes in on the year you got a sled and there was no snow onChristmas Day? Or the year the tree tipped over? Or the year

you didn't have a tree?

The Christmas stories in this book span the years from mygrandmother's (Mabel O'Dell Williams of the Grandma's Attic

Series) childhood to my own childhood. They cover the years

when there was little material wealth with which to celebrate

and the years when money was plentiful. But each story reflects

a spirit that has nothing to do with poverty or plenty, and

everything to do with love, joy, goodwill, and thankfulness. It is

my hope that reading these stories will inspire you to go back

and remember the cranberries and popcorn on your own string

of memories. Merry Christmas!

—Arleta Richardson, 1991

8

ALessonfroman

Angel

"These ornaments always look newwhen we take them out, don 't they,

Grandma?" I said. "Iforget what they

look like every year.

"

"Yes, they do, " Grandma replied.

"And some ofthem are older than youare.

"

We unwrapped the balls andcelluloid animals and dolls and spread

them out around the tree.

"This is myfavorite, " I said, picking

up a little angel. "It's pretty old, isn't

it?"

"Yes, it is. " Grandma turned it over

in her hand. "But it looks a lot better

than another angel I remember. I wish I

had saved it, even though you 'd never

know what it was, I'm afraid.

"

"What happened to it?" I asked. "Did

you drop it?"

"Not exactly, " Grandma said. "It was

the victim ofanother one ofourfoolish

tricks.

"

I ivas anxious to hear about it, so

Grandma told me the story while weworked.

after what seemed like weeks of waiting, it wasfinally time to decorate the tree at school. Each class madesomething to hang, and there was a lot of competition for the

prettiest or most unusual addition each year. This Christmas

Miss Gibson had a surprise as her contribution to the festivities.

She brought a box out of her desk.

"We're going to have an angel at the top of our tree," she

announced, and she held up the most gorgeous ornament wehad ever seen. "My aunt sent it for us to use, then I'll take it

home with me." She placed it with the things we had madewith the promise that we would start trimming the tree the first

thing tomorrow. Everyone gathered around to admire the angel

with its golden wings and halo, white frothy-looking dress, and

outstretched arms.


"I can almost hear her singing 'Glory to God in the highest,'

can't you?" Sarah Jane said. "That's the first thing everyone will

see when they come for the program."

When we returned to our seats for the final minutes of the

school day, Sarah Jane leaned over and whispered to me."I have a great idea."

"You always have," I whispered back. "I hope it doesn't

have anything to do with me."

Miss Gibson assigned homework and dismissed the school.

While we gathered up our books and put on boots and scarves,

Sarah Jane revealed her plan.

"I don't think the angel should stay here in this cold

building tonight," she said. "What if she freezes and cracks?

Maybe we'd better take her home and keep her warm. We can

come early in the morning before the others get here. Shall weask Miss Gibson if we can do that?"

I agreed that this sounded like a good idea. We looked

around for Miss Gibson, but she had been called out to settle a

dispute in the school yard.

"I don't think she'll care," Sarah Jane said. "Here, I have a

clean handkerchief to wrap the angel, and you can carry her in

your lunch pail."

Something told me that we should wait and tell Miss

Gibson, but she didn't return, so we packed the angel into the

lunch pail and headed for home. I had been given permission

to stop at Sarah Jane's to play after school, so we went straight

to the Clarks' house.

"I'm glad you're home, girls," Mrs. Clark said. "It's getting

colder. Mabel, your folks stopped by on the way to town and

said that you should stay here until they get back. It may be

after dark, so you'll have supper with us."

This was a pleasant surprise, and we hurried to take off our

coats and run to Sarah Jane's room. We worked a few minutes

on our homework, then played with her dolls until it was time

to eat. Soon after supper, Pa and Ma arrived, and while they

visited with the Clarks, I got my things together to go home.

"Where's my lunch pail?" I asked.

"I put it on the back of the stove," Mrs. Clark replied. "I

thought we'd be sure to see it there when you were ready to

head for home."

10


Sarah Jane and I looked at each other in horror, and as

quickly as we could escape from the kitchen, we opened the

pail. The sight that met our eyes was worse than we hadimagined. The angel's face was crumpled, and her halo hadmelted to one side. Her arms were no longer outstretched, but

lay at odd angles to her body.

"Oh!" I wailed. "This is the worst thing we've ever done. I

didn't know she was made all of wax!"

Sarah Jane looked as stricken as I felt as we gazed at the

ruined ornament.

"What do we do now?" she moaned. "Could we put it back

and pretend we don't know what happened? No one saw us

leave with it."

I shook my head. "We'd never sleep again as long as welived," I said. "We'll have to tell our folks."

"And Miss Gibson," Sarah Jane added. She sat down on the

bed. "I thought Christmas was supposed to be happy. This one

sure won't be."

"We'll probably have to give up our presents to pay for it," I

said. "This will be absolutely the worst Christmas we've ever

had."

"Oh, my!" Mrs. Clark said when we broke the news to our

folks. "I should have looked in that dinner pail before I put it

on the stove. I had no idea there was anything like that in it!"

"I can't believe you'd do something so foolish," Ma said. "Or

maybe I can. What are you going to do now?"

"We thought you'd tell us," I said. "We don't know."

"This is your problem," Pa told us. "You will need to talk to

Miss Gibson about it. Find out how much it will cost to replace

the angel, then decide how you will get the money."

"There's no way but to give up our Christmas presents,"

Sarah Jane said.

Mr. Clark nodded. "That sounds reasonable," he said. "It's a

sorry fact that you pay for foolish mistakes."

"If we expected any sympathy, we can forget it," Sarah Jane

said when we were back in her room.

"I expected something besides sympathy," I replied. "I'm

surprised they didn't spank us, even if we are ten years old."

"I'd rather be spanked than have to face Miss Gibson in the

12

A Lessonfrom an Angel

morning," Sarah Jane declared. "She is going to be so unhappy.

We've ruined three Christmases."

We were in for another surprise the following morning

when Miss Gibson looked thoughtfully at the ruined angel.

"I'm sure you meant well, girls. But we must learn to think

things through before we act."

"How much do we owe you, Miss Gibson? Can you buyanother angel for our tree?"

Miss Gibson was silent for a moment, then she shook her

head. "We'll put this angel on the tree," she said. "It isn't as

beautiful as it was, but maybe it will remind us that we can ruin

anything if we don't consider the consequences of our actions.

Perhaps we needed the lesson that things that can be broken

are not as important as the love that came at Christmastime."

She smiled and hugged us. "We'll tell the others that the angel

had an accident, but she still stands for Christmas."

"In the dim light the angel still looked

pretty, " Grandma said, "but what weremembered most was Miss Gibson 's

wisdom in notputting too much value

on things that could be replaced. Wemay not have been punished as severely

as we should have been, but we did

learn a good lesson.

"

13

The year I had diphtheria, we were

quarantined during the Christmas

holidays. Myfather brought things to us

and left them on theporch and waved to

me through the window. Mother andGrandma had to stay inside the house.

"This will certainly be a different

Christmas, " Mother said. "No shopping in

the crowded stores, no wading in the

snow.

"

"And no tree, " I said. "No Santa Claus.

Andprobably no presents.

"

"I wouldn 't say that,"

Grandma put in. "Yourfather

will see thatyou have a treeQuarantinedC^ x\ 1*\ offV* O C* andpresents. Andyou already

have one good gift—you 're

getting well. Did I ever tellyou about the

Christmas we had diphtheria at our house?'

"What happened? Didyou still

celebrate?"

"Oh, my, yes. It wasn 'tjust like all the

other Christmases, but it was certainly

special.

"

*sStudents," Miss Gibson said, "I know you are

anxious to talk about the Christmas program, but we do have

another half hour of classes. Let's pay attention to our books

until dinnertime. This afternoon we'll assign parts for the

program and draw names for gifts."

The room quieted for a time, but it was hard to concentrate

on books. The girls in the fifth through eighth grades were

eligible to be Mary, and there were only four of us this year.

Miss Gibson put our names in a box, and a primary child

picked one. That was the fairest way to decide, since all of us

wanted the honor.

Sarah Jane poked me, then pointed to the row of seats near

the window.

"Your brother has gone to sleep," she whispered. "Howcould anyone sleep when we're planning for Christmas?"

I thought this was odd, too, since Roy was never still long

enough to sleep during the day, but I decided he had gotten

15


too warm and dozed off. He didn't wake up when Miss Gibsonannounced that it was time to put our books away. My other

brother, Reuben, was also watching Roy anxiously, but he wastwo rows away and couldn't nudge him.

I forgot all about anything else when Miss Gibson openedthe paper handed to her and said, "This year, Mary will beplayed by Mabel O'Dell."

"This is the most exciting thing that has ever happened to

me in school!" I said to Sarah Jane. "I can wear the blue robe

and hold the baby Jesus. I wish the program were tonight."

"I'm glad it's you, Mabel," Sarah Jane said, "but you'll needto practice a few times. A week isn't long to wait."

When the noise of dinner pails and talking didn't arouse

Roy, Reuben went over to shake him.

"Miss Gibson," he said, "I think Roy is sick. He's awfully hot,

and he doesn't want to wake up."

Miss Gibson hurried over and put her hand on Roy's head.

"You'd better run home and get your father to come for

him," she told Reuben. "He won't be able to walk that far, I'm

afraid."

"I'd sure hate to get sick just before the Christmas program,"

I said to Sarah Jane. "I'll stay away from his room. Maybe Macan have him cured before next Friday."

But when I arrived home in the afternoon, I found that this

was not to be. Before I could tell Ma the good news about mypart in the program, my world shattered.

"I'm glad you're home, Mabel," Ma said. "Are you feeling all

right?"

"I'm fine, Ma. Wait till you hear ..."

"It will have to wait, Mabel. I'm busy with Roy. The doctor

has been here and says he has diphtheria. We all have to be

quarantined."

"You mean we have to stay in the house?"

"We can leave the house, but not the farm," Ma replied. "We

can't be with other people."

"But I have to be with other people for the Christmas

program," I said. "We'll be able to go out by next Friday, won't

we?"

Ma paused in her hurry around the kitchen and looked

straight at me.

"16"

Quarantined Christmas

"Roy is seriously ill. We won't be able to go anywhere for

the next three or four weeks."

I let this sink in for a moment. When the hopelessness of

the situation really registered, I began to howl.

"But, Ma! I'm Mary! Don't you understand that I have to be

there? What about my piece? They can't have a program without

Mary! They can't get along without me!"

"I can, right this minute," Ma said grimly. "I know you're

disappointed and would like some sympathy, but your brother

needs me more. We'll talk about this later."

I ran to my room and threw myself onto the bed, sobbing

wildly. As far as I was concerned, life was over. Not only would

there be no school program, but there would be no church

Christmas Eve service, no sleigh ride with the carolers, and no

day to celebrate with the Clarks. Things were dark indeed.

Pa put his head in the door. "Mabel, Sarah Jane is waiting

for you at the gate. You can stand a little way this side and talk

to her, but don't go out."

I put on my coat and trudged down the lane to where she

stood.

"Did you ever hear of anything worse than this?" I said.

"How could Roy do this to me?"

"You don't think he did it on purpose, do you?" Sarah Jane

asked.

"Well, no," I admitted. "It's not really his fault. But what will

I do?"

"For one thing, you'll have two Christmases," Sarah Jane

said. "The real day with just your family and another one with

us when Roy is well. I know that doesn't help for the Christmas

program, but you'll be back in time for the spring program. I'll

stop by every day after school with your lessons so you won't

get behind."

"I wish I'd gone home with you tonight," I said. "Then I

wouldn't be quarantined here by myself."

"And not have Christmas with your folks? You wouldn't be

able to stand that."

As I walked back to the house, I saw Pa and Reubenheaded for the barn. Ma was lighting the lamps in the kitchen,

and smoke curled up from the big fireplace chimney. I knew

17

CHRISTMAS STORIES FROM GRANDMAS ATTIC

how the big room felt and how it smelled of good things

cooking. I remembered how patient and comforting Ma had

been when I was sick. Sarah Jane was right. What wouldChristmas be without my family? I was glad I didn't have to find

out.

"I know Uncle Roy got better, " I said,

"but didyou really have a nice

Christmas that year?"

"Oh, yes, " Grandma said. "Ma was

busy, but shefound time to bake cookies

with me and to sew new doll clothes. Paand Reuben played games with me, andwe set up a little tree in Roy's room. It

was a lovely Christmas, just as usual. It

always is when you're with thepeople

you love.

"

18

ChristmasSpirit

M and I were returning from the barn, and westopped to admire the white bushes and trees that surrounded us.

I shook the snow off the holly berries and sniffed the cold air

appreciatively. "Aren't you glad you don't live where it's always

cold or always hot?" I asked Ma.

"I suppose you could get used to anything," Ma replied. "But,

yes, I'm always happy with a change of seasons. It wouldn't

seem like Christmas to me without snow."

"I'll believe Christmas is here when the schoolhouse is

decorated and the program ready," I said. "It's going to be so

pretty this year. We're going out today to cut greens and find a

Mabel's account ofher eighth grade Christmas, reprintedfrom Treasures

from Grandma.

19


tree. This holly would look nice, too, wouldn't it?"

Ma agreed that it would. "Take the milk to the house, andI'll cut some holly for you," she offered.

I took the milk pail and started up the lane, whensomething occurred to me.

"I don't ever remember you handing me the milk pail

without warning me not to spill it," I said. "Does this mean youthink I'm a more dependable age now?"

Ma laughed. "It means you're at an age where you can

clean up after yourself. You learn to be careful in a hurry whenyou have to mop the floor and wash your own clothes."

The morning at school dragged. Steam rose from the wet

mittens arranged around the hot stove, and everyone whopassed a frosted window had to put a wet finger on it to trace

the pattern of ice.

"Isn't it almost noon?" Wesley asked. "We have too muchChristmas spirit to pay attention to schoolwork."

"Oh?" said Miss Gibson. "Just what is 'Christmas spirit,'

anyway?"

"Peace-on-earth-good-will-to-men," Sarah Jane answered

glibly. "With maybe a little fun thrown in just for . . . the fun of

it!"

"I understand your impatience," Miss Gibson admitted. "This

is a special time of year, and it is fun. But I hope we can learn

something about the true meaning of Christmas, too. Let's stop

and eat now, and then we'll go look for a tree."

Everyone was in favor of that, and we ran to collect and

open our lunch pails.

"Oh, dear," cried Belinda. "My sandwich is frozen!"

"We can fix that," Miss Gibson told her. "Unwrap your

sandwich and lay it on the lid of your dinner pail, then we'll

put that on the coal shovel and stick it in the stove. It will soon

be toasty and warm."

That worked so well that the rest of us wanted to try it.

"Mmm. Hot corn bread," Warren said. "This is almost as good as

being home."

"And doesn't it smell just like a kitchen?" I put in. "There are

a lot of things that cook on the stove all day. Why couldn't wehave a hot dinner right here?"

"Soup is good," Sarah Jane chimed in. "It could simmer

20

Christmas Spirit

away while we work."

"That sounds delightful," Miss Gibson agreed. "But howmuch work would we get done between sniffs?"

"Not much," we laughed. "It's hard enough now to wait for

noontime."

Everyone finished eating in record time, and we were soon

bundled up and ready to go. The woods behind the school

always produced the most beautiful branches and a tree that

was just the right size. Each class made decorations and tried to

keep them a secret until the day came to hang them on the

tree. Sarah Jane and I were the only eighth graders, and since

Wesley was alone in the seventh grade, Miss Gibson suggested

that he join us.

"I can see Wesley's contribution right now," Sarah Jane

confided. "An apple with a bite out of it. Or a gingerbread manwith a leg missing."

"You're probably right," I agreed. "He does like to eat.

Maybe we can get him to carve a wooden cookie and paint it."

It was sheltered in the woods and didn't seem quite as cold.

When we had gathered all the branches we could carry, wetrudged back to the schoolhouse.

"We'll leave the tree and branches outside," Miss Gibson

decided. "They dry out pretty fast in a warm room. Let's start

working on ornaments, shall we?"

Just before dismissal time we drew names for presents. Each

year Miss Gibson would put all our names in a box, and wewould each bring a Christmas gift for the person whose namewe drew. We weren't allowed to put a name back unless wepicked our own.

"I hope I don't get your name," I said to Sarah Jane. "AndI'd rather not have Warren Carter's, either."

"It's nice to be included in such intelligent company," she

replied, "but I'm not exactly flattered."

"Oh, you know what I mean. I give you a present anyway. I

don't want you to get mine, either."

On the way home Sarah Jane said, "Well, my present isn't

going to be hard to fix. A big box of candy will do nicely."

"Wesley," I guessed.

"Right. I'll make some chocolate fudge and some divinity.

21

Christmas Spirit

Whose name did you get?"

"Hannah's. I'd like to think of something to give her that

would make her smile."

"You'll never do it," Sarah Jane said emphatically. "She has

absolutely no Christmas spirit. Just hope she didn't get your

name. I heard her say she wouldn't bring a gift if she didn't get

a name she wanted."

"Want to trade with me?"

"No, thank you. At least Wesley can be depended upon to

like what he gets, provided it stands still long enough for him to

eat it."

"Do you think we ought to tell Miss Gibson about Hannah?"

I asked. "We don't want the party to be ruined."

"I don't think Hannah would really do what she said," Sarah

Jane replied. "She likes to complain, but she's not mean."

"I suppose you're right. Anyway, this is too nice a day to

worry about it."

"There's a whole week of school until Christmas vacation," I

said to Ma as we got supper. "I wonder if I can wait that long."

"I think it's possible," Ma replied. "Do you want to knowhow to make the time seem to go faster?"

"Oh, yes! How can I do that?"

"Plan to get more things done than you have time to finish,"

Ma said. "I know that works, because I've been doing it for

years."

"I have plenty to work on," I said. "I have to finish Sarah

Jane's gift and make something for Hannah, not to mention

make Christmas presents for the family and get ready for the

Christmas program."

"You won't have a problem waiting," Ma laughed. "That's

already enough activity for two weeks."

Miss Gibson allowed us time to work on Christmas projects

and overlooked the extra noise and restlessness. Thedecorations for the tree were better than they had ever been.

Even the first graders' strings of cranberries and popcorn werelonger and prettier.

"Wesley," Sarah Jane inquired one afternoon, "where are the

rest of the candy canes for the tree?"

"I guess I ate a few," he confessed.

23


"A few! There are only two here, and we started out with

ten! Now what do we do?"

"I'll get Ma to make some cookies to hang up," Wesleypromised. "I'll bring them in the morning."

"If I believe that, I'd believe anything," Sarah Jane muttered.

"You could eat a dozen cookies between your house and the

road. I'll stop by and get them myself to be sure they get here."

"Honestly, Wesley," I said, "by the time you're ready to

graduate, they'll have to roll you out of the schoolhouse."

Wesley grinned. "What would a growing boy be without an

appetite?"

"I don't know," I replied. "I've never seen one."

The week did pass swiftly, as Ma had predicted. With her

help, I made a pretty Christmas apron for Hannah. It waswrapped in green tissue paper and tied with red ribbon. Theprogram was ready, too.

"The older pupils are putting on a play instead of reciting

pieces," I told the family. "It's a Christmas story, but I can't tell

you about it because it's a surprise."

"What are you, Santa Claus or one of the reindeer?" Reuben

teased.

"That's not funny," I replied stiffly. "There is more to

Christmas than Santa Claus. There's also a spirit of kindness and

giving."

"Kindness we can use a lot more of," Pa remarked, looking

at Reuben. "Suppose we show a little to the animals and bed

them down for the night. Shall we, boys?"

"I'll be home at noon tomorrow," I told Ma as we did the

dishes. "We have to be back at school early tomorrow evening

to get everything ready for the program."

"I'm sure it will be just fine," Ma said. "I'm looking forward

to it."

The program went off with hardly a mistake, and the time

soon arrived for distributing the gifts. Wesley was chosen to

hand them out as the names were called.

"He was born for that job," Sarah Jane whispered to me. "All

he lacks is the beard and a red suit."

One by one the gaily wrapped presents were brought to

their owner, who shook them and poked them to try to guess

24

Christmas Spirit

what might be inside.

"Mabel yours must be clear at the bottom," Sarah Jane

said.

"Either that or Hannah got my name," I joked.

Finally there was just one gift left. The name on it was

David Ross. He was sick and hadn't come to the program.

"You didn't get one!" Sarah Jane said in disbelief. "I didn't

think she really meant it."

"And I gave her that pretty apron," I said. "See if I ever do

anything nice for her again!"

The rest of the evening didn't seem quite so exciting to me.

and I was glad when it was time to go home.

"It's not that I didn't get a present," I explained to Ma on the

way home. "The worst part is that she embarrassed me in front

of my friends! It just isn't fair. I wish I hadn't given her that

apron."

"Do you give a gift just to get one in return?" Ma asked mequietly. "Is that what the spirit of kindness and giving is all

about?"

"No, I guess it isn't," I answered. I was ashamed of myself

for feeling as I did, but I was disappointed. It was hard to

forgive Hannah for what she had done.

On Sunday I had a cold and stayed home from church.

When the family returned. Pa came over to the couch where I

lay and dropped a box wrapped in tissue paper beside me.

"This is yours," he said. "It's from David Ross. He had your

name, but since he couldn't get to the program, his folks

brought his gift to church today."

So Hannah hadn't gotten my name! I had wrongly accused

her and been resentful about something that hadn't even

happened.

"I was so sure I knew all about Christmas spirit," I told

Sarah Jane later. "I feel awful for thinking such mean things

about Hannah."

"You should," Sarah Jane replied. "After all, you know it's

more blessed to give than to receive. And since you can use all

the blessing you can get, you'd better be sure to give me a

Christmas present!"

25

NorthBranchGivesAway

Christmas

Mabel O'Dell moved to

North Branch, Michigan,

to teach school. There she

met and married Len

Williams, pastor of the

small village church. Her

lifelongfriend Sarah

fane also settled in North

Branch.

-x-he people of the little town of North Branch

celebrated Christmas as they did everything else—together. The

community had long ago outgrown the schoolhouse as a scene

for festivities, and the town hall was decorated for the occasion.

Sarah Jane and Mabel joined the other ladies as they cleaned

the big room in preparation for the evening.

"I hear Zachary Burton has returned from Canada," Sarah

Jane remarked. "Gladys is upset because he hired a farmhand

while he was there. The man is on his way down now with all

his worldly goods."

"That doesn't sound like such a tragedy," Mabel said. "Does

Gladys think it's too close to the holidays?"

"I expect she's annoyed because he didn't consult with her

before he did it," Sarah Jane replied. "I also expect we'll hear

27


more than we want to know about the whole affair before it

fades out."

She was so right. In the next few days Gladys made her

rounds by sleigh and by telephone to express her displeasure.

"I told him he could have found someone right around here

to work the farm. He didn't have to go way off up north to get

a man."

"The men around here get logging jobs, Gladys," Mabel said

to her. "You can't get anyone but a schoolboy to work on a

farm."

"Zachary's been talking to you, too, huh?" Gladys snorted. "I

could find a hired man if I set out to."

The week before Christmas, Mabel arrived early at Sarah

Jane's to fill the bags of candy and nuts that would be handed

out by Santa at the program, along with the gifts each family

brought for exchange. Before she could shake the snow off her

boots and remove her scarf, Mabel could see that Sarah Jane

was bursting with news.

"I would have called you, but I wanted to see your face

when I told you."

"What am I going to look like? Sad, happy, excited?" Mabel

asked.

"Unbelieving and horrified," Sarah Jane chortled.

"You don't look too horrified," Mabel said. "What does this

great news have to do with me?"

"Not just you. I think this will take in the whole town."

"Let's hear it," Mabel said with a sigh. "As long as I don't

have to take care of it alone."

"The Burtons' hired man arrived last night."

"Is that all? We've been expecting him for days."

"Zachary didn't exactly reveal the whole story when he said

he had a farmhand," Sarah Jane said. "The man brought a wife."

"Oh. Well, maybe she can help Gladys in the house. They

have lots of room."

"Not that much," Sarah Jane declared. "They have eleven

children."

"Eleven children! Sarah Jane, you are making this up!"

"And they don't speak English."

Mabel sat down at the table and stared at her friend.

"What, then?"

28

North Branch GivesAway Christmas

"French. And we all know how much French Gladys

speaks. You look suitably horrified, all right."

"What is that poor woman doing?" Mabel gasped. "How is

she feeding them? We've got to do something!"

"You're right," Sarah Jane said briskly. "Let's get this job

done as fast as we can and make plans."

While Sarah Jane set pans of rolls to bake, Mabel called all

the ladies she could reach.

"We need quilts, dishes, clothing, and food," she told them.

"With that many children, you don't have to bother about sizes.

Anything will fit someone."

"I know we have to go over there," Sarah Jane said, "but I

want you to know that I'm not looking forward to it. We'll

probably find that Zachary has had to move to the barn. Whatin the world will Gladys do with that many children?"

By the time the sleigh was loaded, Mabel and Sarah Jane

had a pretty good collection from their two houses. They drove

around to the back of the Burtons' and went into the kitchen,

where they found Gladys standing at the stove, stirring a hugepot of cornmeal mush. She looked at them bleakly.

"Well, Gladys, how—""Don't even ask," she snapped.

"Where is everybody?" Sarah Jane ventured.

"Most of the children are out in the barn," Gladys replied.

"And I sent that poor little wisp of a woman upstairs to lie

down with the rest of 'em. She's been up since daylight

scrubbing floors and clothes and young ones."

Gladys pushed the pot to the back of the stove and sat

down.

"We'll find a place to store them all until the house out backis ready," she said. "What worries me is Christmas. Day after

tomorrow is the tree celebration, and how are we going to get

something for every child? They got here with the clothes ontheir backs and not much else. Zachary says they had to sell all

their household goods to pay for the trip. We'll have to think of

some way to find toys for them."

"We'll get on the telephone," Sarah Jane declared. "If we call

everyone who will be at the Christmas program, we'll certainly

get some ideas. And Gladys, the ladies will be bringing food

29

North Branch GivesAway Christmas

and clothes over to help out."

The evening of the big program was cold and frosty, and

people began arriving early for the festivities. The center of

attraction as they entered the hall was the Christmas tree.

"Wow! That's got to be the biggest tree in Michigan!" a little

boy exclaimed.

And indeed it may have been. The top brushed the ceiling

of the building, and the branches filled the corner of the room.

In addition to the decorations made by the children at school,

each family had contributed something suitable to the occasion.

Now as everyone came forward and placed red and green

packages in the branches and around the bottom, the whole

thing presented a sight to behold.

The Christmas story, complete with live animals surrounding

the manger, was a program to remember. When the time cameto distribute the gifts, Jerome Grayson, president of the school

board, rose and faced the crowded room.

"You all know that a new family has arrived this week to be

with the Burtons. Even though the Martines may not have

understood all that was said tonight, they are going to

understand what we do. To begin with, the students at the

school have voted to give every gift on the tree to the Martine

family. They don't want the children to be without presents

their first Christmas here. Secondly, the board of trustees has

organized an all-town work day for tomorrow. Everyone whocan possibly do so will gather at the big house in the morningto get it ready for the Martines to move into before Christmas.

We will make any necessary repairs, paint and scrub, andcollect furniture from anyone who has something to spare. Anyladies who can provide dinner and supper for the workers will

be welcome. If we have never felt the true spirit of Christmas

before, we surely will this year."

"Jerome never spoke a truer word," Sarah Jane groaned as

they sagged down in front of the fire the following evening.

"Can you believe that those people are all moved in?"

"I can," Mabel said. "I can also believe that we are tuckered

out. But wasn't it worth it to see the expressions on their faces

when they realized that the house was really theirs? I'll never

31


forget how those children looked when the men moved the big

tree into the living room and put all the packages back on it."

"Gladys forgave Zachary for the shock when she found out

that Charles Martine had lost his last job and his home in

Quebec. They would have been out on the street if Zachary

hadn't offered to bring them here. Gladys might make a lot of

noise about it, but she would never turn away anyone who washomeless."

Sarah Jane rose and went to get her coat.

"I'm glad that tomorrow is a designated day of rest," she

said. "And if I ever said that there was nothing to see or do in a

small town, I take it back. I've just seen it and done it!"

32

ADifferentChristmas

y\$\iide from a trip to visit Grandpa and GrandmaWilliams, Alma's first introduction to society was the school

Christmas program. We arrived a little early, and my former

students clustered about for a good look at the baby.

"Does she eat much?" Teddy Sawyer wanted to know.

"You can tell she doesn't," Toby Elliot answered for me.

"You can barely see her nose." He looked at me anxiously. "I

wasn't expecting anything this little. Does she even weigh a

pound?"

"Oh, yes," I laughed. "She weighs almost seven pounds. She

won't be this little for long, because she does eat a lot."

Mabels account of thefirst Christmas after bahy Alma was born. Adapted

and reprintedfrom New Faces, New Friends.

33


"I'll be in seventh grade when she starts to school," NancyLawton said. "I'll watch out for her and help her with her

work."

"Thank you, Nancy," I said. "It will make me feel better to

know that someone responsible is looking after Alma."

Families began to arrive for the program, and the children

disappeared behind the curtain that was stretched across the

front of the room. Everyone stopped to see Alma and talk to

me.

"You should have held an open house for the town before

you ventured into a public program," Sarah Jane chuckled.

"Alma's the only one not saying anything, and she's the hit of

the show."

"Never mind," I said to my friend, who was expecting a

baby shortly herself. "Your day is coming."

"It can't be too soon for me," she replied.

The program began with the manger scene. One by one the

schoolchildren appeared with wrapped boxes representing

God's gifts. A poem, a song, or a short essay identified each

gift. Roseanna and Joanna, twin six year olds, held a big box

between them and recited:

"God gave a double blessing,

This is what we say;

When He gave the moon to shine at night,

And the sun to shine by day."

Teddy Sawyer's box held the gift of education. Toby Elliot

had the gift of peace, and Joel Gage had parents. Everyone had

something appropriate to say about his present before he

placed the box under the tree. The program concluded with a

song by the whole school and the usual bags of candy and

nuts.

Mary Webster, the new teacher who had taken my place,

flushed with pleasure as the parents congratulated her on the

children's success. "We worked together to write the speeches

and the poems," she said, "but the ideas were all their own. Wewanted to show the true spirit of Christmas in a different way."

"You certainly did that," Len told her. "The program was

very well done."

"Nobody had the gift of snow," Daniel shouted from the

doorway, "but we got it!"

34

A Different Christmas

We certainly did. The snow was falling in thick flakes as wehurriedly left the schoolhouse. Since we had all come in

buggies, not sleighs, we were anxious to get home.

"I trust that this is a temporary gift," Sarah Jane sighed as weparted. "This is not the winter I want to be snowed in with no

human fellowship."

With Christmas came another heavy snowstorm. I had a

twinge of wishing that I had accepted Ma's offer to go back

with her the week before.

"You could bring the baby and come home with me now,"

she had said. "Len could come before Christmas and spend a

few days. Pa is anxious to see his granddaughter, too."

Len had urged me to do that, but I declined.

"It would be the worst Christmas ever if something

happened so we couldn't celebrate together. I'll wait and go

with you," I told him.

Now in spite of being lonesome for my family, I didn't

regret my decision.

"It's only right that we begin our own Christmas traditions,

now that we have a family," I said. "If there isn't a blizzard on

Christmas Day, we can get out to visit our friends."

On Christmas Eve day, Len and Thomas, Sarah Jane's

husband, went to the woods to get trees.

"I think we can trust them to get nicely shaped ones," Sarah

Jane said. "I know right where I'll put mine—in front of the

parlor window. Do you think we have enough ornaments for

both trees?"

We looked over the array of small things that we had been

making: little wreaths made of red and green yarn, crocheted

white snowflakes, pine cones decorated with holly berries, and

small sleds made with twig runners.

"That will be plenty when we've finished stringing popcorn

and cranberries tonight. We have red bows to add if there's

more space to fill."

"If I were in any shape to tramp around in the woods,

Thomas wouldn't have gotten away without me," Sarah Jane

said. "Next year the babies will be a year old, and we'll all go

and pick out the trees."

35


A pot of soup bubbled on the back of the stove, and I madecorn bread to go with it while Sarah Jane mixed the dough for

an apple cobbler.

By the middle of the afternoon the sky was beginning to

darken, and snow fell in little wisps.

"They'll be coming in soon," Sarah Jane said as she peered

out the window. "They shouldn't have had any trouble finding

something. In fact, here they come now."

I went to the window, and we watched silently as the sleigh

turned in the lane and stopped in front of the gate. As far as wecould see, there was absolutely nothing in the sleigh except Len

and Thomas.

"Well, so much for a tree this year," Sarah Jane sighed.

"We'll put wreaths on our ears and cranberries in our hair and

be satisfied. I'm going to be interested in the story that goes

with this trip."

I opened the door and the men came in, brushing the snowoff their coats.

"Did you have fun playing in the snow?" I asked them. "Or

did the two of you spend the day visiting with friends?"

"Why, no," Thomas replied. "We just came in to see where

you wanted your tree before we lug it in."

"I hate to be the one to tell you this," Sarah Jane said, "but if

you cut down a Christmas tree, you forgot to put it on the

sleigh."

"Actually, we didn't cut it down," Len replied.

"I can see that," I told him. "I'll watch you 'lug it in' before I

tell you where to put it."

"Whatever you say." Thomas shrugged, and they turned

around and went back to the sleigh. Then they came carrying a

small tub between them. It contained a perfectly shaped blue

spruce about two feet tall.

"While we were walking through the woods, looking for

trees with just the right shape, we saw a lot of saplings," Len

explained. "They've been sheltered, so they're not all pushed

out of shape. We thought that in honor of the babies' first

Christmas, we'd have a tree that we could put inside, then plant

out by the lane as a remembrance. If you're too disappointed,

we still have time to get a couple that we marked."

36


"Disappointed?" Sarah Jane said. "I think it's a wonderful

idea! We'll be able to watch them grow with the children. Youcouldn't have done better if we had been with you."

"That's a vote of confidence if I ever heard one!" Thomaslaughed. "Do we get whatever smells good for our work?"

After Alma was fed and asleep, Len popped corn in the

fireplace, and we made many strings of popcorn and

cranberries.

"What are we going to do with all of this corn?" I wondered.

"I suggest some butter and salt on what's left over," Sarah

Jane said.

"How about popcorn balls?" Len said. "We could take someto the Graysons' tomorrow." We had all been invited to our

friends the Graysons' for Christmas dinner.

"Good! Let's make snowmen for the Grayson children!"

For the rest of the evening we tried to outdo each other

with creative figures made from sticky popcorn. Thomas madea lamb, complete with currants for eyes. Sarah Jane made a pig

that sported a curly yarn tail. Len won the prize with a sleigh,

piled high with candy canes.

"Daniel will love that," I said. "And Serena's not too old to

appreciate an animal or a snowman."

Christmas morning was cold and stormy. Len heated a

soapstone for my feet and wrapped a heavy robe around Almaand me. I had already bundled the baby into a woolen bonnet

and coat and several heavy blankets.

"I hope she doesn't smother in there," I said as we started

out.

"She won't as long as you're holding her right side up," Len

said.

I was sure that I was, but I unwrapped the layers enough to

see her face anyway. The scarf around my face froze almost at

once, and the snow clung to my eyelashes.

It took less than ten minutes to reach the Graysons', and

Regal seemed to enjoy the trip more than anyone. He pranced

and shook his head and snorted happily. When we drove into

the yard, Daniel threw open the front door and the whole

family hurried out to meet us.

"Oh, please, Mrs. Williams, may I carry the baby in?" Serena

37

f-J^:H

x'i&'^-i^>


pleaded. "I promise I won't drop her."

"I doubt she'd feel it if you did, she's so well padded," I said

with a laugh, and handed Alma to her. Len and Jerome took

Regal to the stable, and the rest of us went into the house.

I drew in a deep breath. "Wait until Sarah Jane walks in," I

said. "She'll sniff and say, 'Bayberry. I love bayberry candles.

They smell like Christmas.' You just see if she doesn't."

Serena laid Alma on the sofa and pulled back the blankets.

"Are you sure you put the baby in here, Mrs. Williams? I

haven't found her yet."

"She was there when I left home. Keep digging."

"Here they are!" Daniel shouted from his post at the

window, and Alma awoke with a howl of protest.

"She's here, all right," Serena reported, and we unwrapped

her as quickly as we could. After the coat and bonnet were

removed, and Serena was seated in the rocker with her, Alma's

cries subsided. She seemed to look around with interest.

"I think she can see the tree," Serena said as Sarah Jane

walked in with Myra.

"Of course she can," Sarah Jane said. "And she can smell the

bayberry candles. They smell like Christmas."

Myra laughed at the direct quotation as she took Sarah

Jane's coat and scarf. "Good," she said. "I've made some for you

to take home. I'm so glad you could all get here. Since you all

have brothers and sisters for your parents to be with today, I

don't feel sorry for any of them. Sit down, and I'll bring you

something hot to drink."

The day rivaled anything that Dickens ever wrote about

Christmas. We played games, sang carols, and admired Daniel's

and Serena's gifts. They enjoyed their popcorn toys, and Myra

had to be quite firm with Daniel to keep him from consuming

several before dinnertime.

The meal that Myra put before us was a feast indeed. There

were tender turkey and ham, fluffy mashed potatoes and

candied sweet potatoes, creamed onions, peas and carrots, as

well as hot rolls and butter, pickles, jam, coleslaw, and

cranberry jelly.

"When Daniel was about three years old," Jerome said as he

carved the meat, "he thought we weren't filling his plate fast

39


enough, and he complained loudly.

" 'You must have patience, Daniel,' his mother told him."

'I don't want patience,' he replied. T want turkey!'"

Daniel grinned self-consciously as we all laughed.

"He's probably thinking the same thing right now," Serena

observed. "Fortunately he's old enough not to say it."

The day ended too soon, and it was time to return home for

the chores.

"This has been as different a Christmas as I've ever had," I

said, "but one of the nicest I can remember. I thought I'd miss

being with my family, but I really was with them. Family is

wherever there are people you love."

40

/ was searching through Grandma's old

trunkfor somepictures when I came across

a small, leather-bound book, the edges

crumbly and dusty. It was a copy ofSnowbound, and "fohn Greenleaf Whittier"

was inscribed on thefirstpage.

"Look, Grandma," I said. "Is this the

bookyou told me about that Sarah fanesigned?"

"No, " Grandma replied. She turned the

book over lovingly. "This is the

qpl S^ • Ca original one

That Kepton Giving

"Butyou sold that one to

Warren Carter.

"

"I did, " Grandma nodded.

"The money he gave me helped get

a coat with afur collarfor Ma's

Christmas.

"

"But, how—?"

"How does it happen to be here? That's

quite a story, " Grandma said. "Iguess I've

never toldyou more than thefirstpart of

it.

"

"Tell me now, " I urged her, andtogether we went back in time to Mabel's

high school years.

Tilarren Carter did give me five dollars for myautographed copy of Snowbound, and for four years I was

content with the copy that Sarah Jane had signed to look like

the original. Ma enjoyed her coat so much that I never regretted

the choice I had made.

Just before we graduated from high school, Warren stopped

in to see me one evening.

"Mabel," he said, "you've given me a run for my money ever

since we started school together. I probably never would have

studied so hard if you had been easier to beat. I think you

deserve a graduation gift for making me work."

Arleta learns the sequel to Grandma 's story "The Autograph, " that was told

in Treasures from Grandma.

41


He handed me a wrapped and ribboned package, andgrinned happily as I opened it. It was the copy of Snowbound I

had sold to him in the eighth grade. "Oh, Warren! Are you sure

you want me to have this back?"

He nodded. "It's too valuable a thing for you ever to have

sold. You've been a good friend over the years, and I want youto keep it."

The book went with me to my new home, and whenever I

looked at it I thought of Warren's generosity. Then oneChristmas, when Alma was about eight years old, there was nomoney for gifts for the family. Sarah Jane and I made doll

clothes from scraps for our daughters' dolls.

"What are you doing for Len this year?" Sarah Jane asked as

we worked on our sewing. "You haven't said anything about it."

"I've made him a sweater and socks," I said, "but the truth

is, I want to get him a Bible. We have a nice family Bible, and

the church Bible of course, but he needs a reading Bible the

size of his hymnal. I could get one from the catalog for seventy-

five cents, but it's bound in cloth. The one I really have my eye

on is bound in French Morocco and has gold edges."

"How much is it?"

"$1.40. I pick it up and look at it every time I go into Gages'

store. Maybe I'll give it so much wear that they'll lower the

price."

"Dorcas would let you get it and pay a little at a time,"

Sarah Jane said. "In fact, she would insist, if she knew you

wanted it."

I shook my head. "Len wouldn't enjoy reading it if he knewI'd gone into debt for it. He would say that a Bible here and

one at the church is enough. But I know how much he'd like

one he could carry with him."

"How much do you still need?"

"Seventy-five cents."

"More than you'll get for your eggs," Sarah Jane said. "What

else could you sell?"

"Nothing that I know of." I shrugged. I thought for a

moment. "Well, maybe there is. My autographed copy of

Snowbound.

"

Sarah Jane was appalled. "Oh, Mabel, no! I was thinking of

"l2~


something to eat, like cream or vegetables. That book is

priceless!"

"So is Len," I replied. "I'll take it in to Dorcas and see if

she'll buy it. Or at least trade it for the Bible."

Sarah Jane wasn't convinced that this was a good idea, but

she said no more. The next time I went into town, I took the

slender volume and explained my plan to Dorcas Gage.

"Are you sure, Mabel?" she protested. "This book is a

treasure. Mr. Whittier is dead now, and there may not be manyautographed copies of one of his most famous poems."

"I know. But how often do I read it? Len would read his

Bible every day."

Dorcas was reluctant, but she took the book in return for

the Bible, and I hurried home, more than pleased with mybargain.

When gifts were opened on Christmas morning, Len was

delighted, as I knew he would be. As usual, we shared the day

with Thomas and Sarah Jane. As we prepared to leave their

home that evening, Sarah Jane handed me a small package.

"One more little gift," she said.

When I opened the present, I very nearly burst into tears. It

was my autographed copy of Snowbound.

"Who knows what that book might buy next year?" Sarah

Jane said with a grin. "I figured this was the best investment

you could ever have."

But she was mistaken. Actually, the best investment of mylife had been her friendship.

44

TheAcmeQueenParlorOrgan

It was a crisp December morning, and Sarah Jane and

Mabel were preparing for a shopping trip in town. As the two

friends stepped out of Sarah Jane's front door, Mabel shielded

her eyes from the glare of the sun and looked toward the road.

"Sarah Jane, isn't that Hudson Curtis turning into the lane?"

Sarah Jane looked and agreed that it certainly appeared to

be. They had not seen a lot of Hudson in North Branch since

he and Widow Moore had married and settled down in

Greenwood with her two small daughters. As minister of the

Greenwood church, Hudson was presumably busy with his

flock and his new home responsibilities.

"Why would he be coming here?" Sarah Jane wondered

aloud. "You're the one he turns to in time of crisis."

"We're about to find out," Mabel replied, and they walked

~45~


over to meet him before he could alight from his sleigh.

"Good morning, Sarah Jane, Mabel," he said. "Lovely day,

isn't it?"

"Beautiful," Sarah Jane agreed. "What brings you to town,

Hudson?"

"Good morning, Hudson," Mabel quickly interjected. "Howare Addie and the girls?"

"Fine. Just fine," he answered. "In fact, Addie is the reason

I'm here."

They waited for him to continue.

"Christmas will be here soon," Hudson went on. "I made a

mistake last year."

"No news there," Sarah Jane muttered under her breath.

"My folks never made much of Christmas," Hudson said.

"They thought giving presents to people who didn't need themand probably didn't want them was a waste of time. If they

wanted something, they bought it. So we never exchanged gifts.

But, after not giving Addie anything for the past couple of

years, I've finally realized that isn't her way. Not that she

complained," he hastened to add. "I just sensed that she was

disappointed. So this year, I decided to make it up to her. That's

why I came to ask your help, Sarah Jane."

Sarah Jane blinked in surprise. "You want me to buy a

Christmas present for Addie?" she asked.

"Oh, no. I've already decided what to get for her. Since you

live closest to the station, I thought you might keep it in your

parlor until Christmas."

"Closest to the station? You're buying her a train?"

As usual, the intended humor sailed right over Hudson's

head.

"Oh, no. I'm getting an organ from Sears and Roebuck. AndI don't want it left at the depot."

This seemed reasonable. "I guess we could keep it for a

couple of weeks," Sarah Jane said. "That's a very nice gift,

Hudson. Addie will enjoy it."

He nodded. "Yes, she has hinted that she would like the

girls to have music lessons. I'll have it shipped in your name

and ask Percy to bring it over here. I'm really much obliged to

you, Sarah Jane. I'll come and get it the week before

Christmas."

46


Thus was the stage set for a comedy of errors that wouldhave satisfied even Shakespeare's sense of the ridiculous.

It didn't often happen that Sarah Jane's husband had to be

away overnight on business, but when Jerome Grayson couldn't

get free to make a trip east to interview new surveyors, he

decided to send Thomas in his place. Thomas was to be gone

until the week before Christmas.

"At least he won't be here to tease me about getting

involved with Hudson's schemes," Sarah Jane said, telling Mabel

about the intended trip. "The organ will have come and gone

before he gets home."

A few days later, Percy and a helper came bearing a heavily

crated object and brought it into Sarah Jane's parlor. It wasaddressed in large letters to "Mrs. Thomas Charles, North

Branch, Michigan." It did take up a large amount of wall space.

"Jessica is disappointed," Sarah Jane said when Mabel

stopped by to see the crate. "She fully expected to be able to

play the organ until Hudson came to claim it. She's not

convinced that we couldn't take off at least the front of the

crate."

"I'd like to see it, too," Mabel replied. "But Hudson didn't

say anything about opening it."

"No. That might not stop me, except that I know it will be

easier to transport in a crate. We'll have to visit the Curtis homeafter Christmas."

The following week Mabel received a startling call from her

friend.

"Mabel, you will not guess what stands in my parlor."

"I wouldn't even try. What is it?"

"I don't know."

"What do you mean, you don't know? Aren't you looking at

it?"

"Yes," Sarah Jane admitted, "but I don't believe it. Comeover and see."

"Well, what in the world?" Mabel said, gazing at a second

crate identical to the first in the middle of Sarah Jane's parlor

floor, and addressed to "Mrs. Thomas Charles, North Branch,

Michigan."

"My words exactly," said Sarah Jane. "Percy just stood in the

48

The Acme Queen Parlor Organ

door and said, 'It come on the morning train, ma'am. I was told

to bring it over, and here 'tis.' That was all he knew and all he

wanted to know."

"I guess you should have told Hudson to park Addie's organ

in his fathers bank," Mabel said. "I hope they aren't going to

keep coming from now until Christmas. Do you think he's

getting one for his church?"

"More likely he forgot he ordered it and sent for another

one," Sarah Jane said. "Why did I get mixed up in this?"

"We'd do better to worry about getting out of it," Mabel

replied. "Have you called Hudson?"

"No, I haven't. I wouldn't mind chewing him out, but I'd

hate to ruin Addie's surprise."

"Call him at the church, then. You may catch him there."

Hudson arrived that afternoon and surveyed the two boxes

in bewilderment. "I can't imagine what happened," he said. "I

ordered just one Acme Queen Parlor organ. At least, I'm quite

sure I did."

"Well, you now have two of them, Hudson. And my parlor

is getting a bit cozy."

"I'm sorry, Sarah Jane. I'll send one back immediately. I

didn't plan it this way."

"He couldn't jumble things up worse if he did plan them,"

Sarah Jane grumbled after he had left. "I certainly hope this is

straightened out before Thomas gets home. He'd never let meforget it."

The excess organ was shipped back, and on the day that

Thomas was due home, Hudson appeared in good time with

one of his parishioners to pick up his crate. Sarah Jane gave a

sigh of relief as the sleigh pulled out of sight and went about

preparing for her husband's return.

Soon thereafter Thomas came through the door and

dropped his valise on a chair.

"Ah, it's good to be home!" he said, hugging Sarah Jane

affectionately. "I passed your old friend Hudson Curtis on the

road with a huge load in his sleigh. Looked like he was on his

way to the station."

Then his eyes twinkled merrily. "Speaking of large

packages, do you have some news for me?" He headed for the

49


parlor and then stopped at the threshold, looking about

expectantly. "Where is it?" he asked in dismay.

"Where is what?" asked Sarah Jane. "If you're referring to

Hudson Curtis's organ, though I don't know how you could be,

it's in the back of his sleigh."

"What? Where's Hudson Curtis taking my organ? Wait until I

catch him!"

Thomas ran toward the front door with Sarah Jane in hot

pursuit.

"Thomas, whatever are you talking about? That wasHudson's organ! He asked if we'd store it for him till Christmas,

so he could surprise Addie."

"That's not Hudson's organ, it's your organ! Didn't it have

your name on it?"

"Actually, there were two organs here. Hudson sent the

other one back."

By this time Thomas was fairly beside himself. "What?!

Hudson sent my organ back? Why would he do a thing like

that? That was your Christmas present!"

Sarah Jane and Thomas finally calmed down enough to sort

out the mix-up, but Thomas wasn't pleased to find that his

wife's wonderful Christmas surprise had come to town and left

again without her even opening it.

On Christmas Day, Mabel and Len and their children sat in

the Charleses' parlor with their friends, singing carols—without

organ accompaniment. Thomas looked a bit glum, but Sarah

Jane laughed.

"I'm sure we'll laugh about this for years to come," she said,

"though Thomas certainly doesn't think it's funny. Oh, Mabel,

do you think we'll ever learn to stay clear of Hudson Curtis?"

Thomas smiled wryly at his wife. "I'm not sure we can place

all the blame on poor old Hudson this time. It took a whole

team of experts to create this much Christmas confusion!"

50

Clare'sChristmas

Faith

ininter descended with a vengeance upon North

Branch at the end of October. Snow lay on the ground, and

frigid air rushed down from Canada. Suddenly it didn't seem

too soon for the Williamses to think about Christmas.

In November Clare came home with exciting news.

"Sam and I have a job after school and on Saturdays!" he

announced.

"A job! Clare, you're only seven years old!" Mabel glanced at

Len in amusement.

"Almost eight," he corrected Mama. He looked at his father

imploringly. "I can do it, can't I, Papa? I'll earn money for

Christmas presents, and I'll share it with you."

"It depends on what the job is, son," Len replied. "And

upon who is offering it to you. Is it someone we know?"

~~5l~


Clare nodded. "It's Mr. Gage at the store. He says that Samand I can run errands and make deliveries and sweep out for

him. I'm big enough to do that."

Len and Mabel agreed that Clare might try the job, and for

the rest of the month, he came home happily each evening andadded his pennies, and an occasional nickel, to the box wherehe kept his earnings.

"What are you going to do with all that wealth?" Mabel

asked one afternoon. "You are collecting quite a bit there."

Clare beamed. "I haven't added on today's, but yesterday I

already had thirty-four cents. I'll tell you a secret, if you promise

not to tell."

"I promise."

"I'm going to get Papa a watch for Christmas!"

"A watch! My, what a wonderful gift!" Mabel tried to sound

enthusiastic, but her heart dropped at the thought of the little

boy's disappointment when he discovered that his resources

would never cover anything so grand.

"There is one at Jackson's Jewelry Store that I have my eye

on," Clare continued importantly. "Mr. Jackson says it is a very

good watch, and he will hold it for me. You won't tell Papa,

will you?"

Mabel promised again that she would not, but she did talk

to Sarah Jane about it.

"There are only three weeks left until Christmas," she said.

"What can I do for him when he tries to buy that watch for fifty

cents?"

"Did you mention how much it probably would cost?" asked

Sarah Jane.

"Yes. I also suggested that he might not make that muchmore before Christmas. When Len reminded him that the Lord's

tithe needs to come out before he purchases his Christmas

presents, I thought for sure Clare would give up his idea."

"But that didn't discourage him, huh? I suppose this is one

of the lessons he'll have to learn from experience. That's tough

for a little boy."

"That's not the worst part," Mabel sighed. "He told me not

to worry about it, because he was praying for the watch every

night."

"Your hands are tied," Sarah Jane said. "It's going to be

~52~

Clare's Christmas Faith

interesting to see how God handles this one."

"Interesting" was not the word Mabel chose when the weekbefore Christmas arrived and Clare dumped his money on the

bed for a final counting.

"I'll wait until the day before Christmas to pick up the

watch," he said. "Or maybe the twenty-third. I might not makemuch more on the last day." His coins amounted to forty-eight

cents.

"How much is a tenth of that?" he wanted to know.

"Four point eight cents," Mabel told him. "Almost five

cents."

"The Lord deserves five cents for helping me," Clare said.

'Besides, I don't know how much 'point eight' is."

"Am I being cruel in letting him believe that he'll get that

watch?" Mabel said to Sarah Jane. "I wouldn't destroy his faith

for anything in the world, but I don't know how I'll handle his

disappointment."

"Mabel, the Lord honors faith wherever He finds it," Sarah

Jane said. "Doesn't the Bible say that's what Jesus will look for

when He returns to the earth?"

"Yes," Mabel nodded, "and it also says that faith is the

'evidence of things not seen.' That watch certainly qualifies."

On the twenty-third of December, Len came home with

news.

"I had to make a trip into town this afternoon," he said,

"and I'm afraid that the information I got isn't going to add to

your Christmas spirit."

Mabel waited for him to continue.

"I was walking past the jewelry store when Mr. Jackson

stepped out and asked to speak to me."

Oh, dear, Mabel thought. He knows about the watch.

Len cleared his throat and went on. "It seems that Clare has

something that doesn't belong to him."

"You mean Mr. Jackson accused Clare of stealing?!" Mabel

exclaimed. "How could he think such a thing? Clare is just a

baby!"

"No, no, nothing like that," Len hastily replied. "Sit down,

and I'll tell you the whole story. Or at least as much as I know.

Mr. Jackson said that Clare came into the store a while ago to

53

Clares Christmas Faith

make a purchase, and emptied his pockets to pay for it. There

were a number of pennies and some nickles, and in the midst

of the coins was this."

Len opened his hand and set a small object on the table.

Mabel gasped as the light struck and shimmered off a brilliant

red stone.

"Oh, Len! What is it?"

"I didn't know, either," Len said. "Mr. Jackson says it is a fire

opal. And a very expensive one."

"But where would Clare get such a thing?"

"That is what Mr. Jackson suggested we find out," Len

replied. "Clare told him that a man at the hotel had given it to

him. Clare said Mr. Jackson could have it along with the money,

because it wasn't a very good marble."

"Oh, Len. What will we do now? I'm going to be nervous

having that in the house."

"We'll straighten it out as soon as Clare comes home," Len

soothed her. "I'm sure there's a reasonable explanation."

"I'm not," Mabel said. "I knew I should have just told Clare

that there was no possible way he could afford—

"

At that moment Clare burst through the door. When he sawthe opal on the table, he stopped short.

"Where did you get the stone?"

"Mr. Jackson gave it to me, son," Len answered.

Clare looked at his mother accusingly. "Mama!" he wailed.

"You promised you wouldn't say anything! You spoiled the

surprise!"

Mabel shook her head, and Len spoke up.

"Your mama didn't tell me anything, Clare. Mr. Jackson told

me you left this with him."

He pulled the little boy over to him and put his arm around

him.

"Can you tell us where you got it?"

Clare was visibly relieved. "Sure. I was going by the hotel,

and this man called me over and asked if I'd take a telegram to

the telegraph office for him. I said sure, and he gave me that

stone for my trouble." Clare poked it with his finger. "I guess he

thought it was a marble, but anyone can see you couldn't shoot

with it. Did Mr. Jackson say I could have it back?"

55


"Well, not exactly." Len said. "But he did think we'd better*

find out where it came from. Would you know the man if yousaw him again?"

Clare nodded. He and Len returned to the hotel, only to

find that the gentleman had checked out and presumably left

on the evening train. There was nothing to do but keep the

gem overnight. Mabel wrapped it carefully and hid it in the

flour bin.

When Len returned to the jewelry store the next morning,

Mr. Jackson met him with excitement.

"We know where the opal came from, Mr.Williams. It wasstolen from a dealer in Detroit. The fellow evidently realized

that they were closing in on him, and gave the stone to your

son in the hope that he could reclaim it later. He must have

panicked and got out while he still could. The good news is

that there is a reward for its recovery!"

Len placed the stone on the counter. "What is the reward?"

he asked cautiously.

"One hundred dollars," Mr. Jackson replied. He beamedhappily. "Just in time for Christmas. You can finish your

shopping in style."

Len stared at him in disbelief. "You mean that Clare will

receive one hundred dollars? We've never had that much moneyat one time. We've never needed that much money. Clare can

spend what he's earned on Christmas gifts, but this will go into

the bank for him. I can't believe this."

"Oh, he's spent what he earned, all right," Mr. Jackson said

with a chuckle, "and I'll see that he gets a fine . . . er . . . one.

You have a great boy there, Mr. Williams. I like to see a boy

with ambition. This was a lucky coincidence for him."

"No," Mabel said when Len repeated the conversation to

her. "It wasn't a coincidence. I believe this is a response to

Clare's faith. He prayed for enough to get a special gift for you,

and he worked as hard as he could to earn it. The Lord always

gives more than we can ask or think."

Christmas was a day of celebration. Clare proudly presented

his papa with a watch which clearly cost more than the fifty-

two cents he had earned for it, but Mr. Jackson had insisted that

Clare did indeed pay for the gift.

56

Clare's Christmas Faith

"Christmas needs to be celebrated with peace, joy, and

faith," Mabel said to Sarah Jane as they fixed turkey sandwiches

for supper that evening. "I'm ashamed when I think of the

hours I spent agonizing over Clare's disappointment instead of

trusting the Lord to work things out. But you'll have to admit

that it could have gone differently. What might have happenedto his faith if it hadn't worked out this way? He really didn't

earn enough for a watch."

"Clare will learn that life doesn't always hand out happyexperiences," Sarah Jane replied, "but this Christmas will help

him learn to trust the Lord. That won't desert him even whenhard times come later. We discover something new every

Christmas, don't we? No wonder it's such a special day of the

year!"

57

Onalee

Grandma and I were baking cookies

for Christmas on a snowy Saturday

morning.

"You've had a lot of Christmases,

haven't you, Grandma?" I said. "Do youremember all of them?"

"Not in detail, Arleta, " Grandmareplied. "But I can recall many little

separate incidents. I seem to remember the

earlier ones better than the lateryears.

What is thefirst Christmas you can

remember?"

I thoughtfor a moment. "I rememberthe yearAunt Claribel gave me Onalee,

"

I said. "How old was I then?"

"Almost two, " Grandma said. "I'm

surprisedyou recollect thatfar back.

"

"I really don 't remember anything

except how much I loved that doll, " I told

her. "I wish I still had her.

"

"You were lucky to have her as long as

you did, " Grandma said with a chuckle. "I

guess you never heard the whole of

Onalee 's story."

"No, but I'd like to. What happened?"

Grandma pushed apan ofcookies into

the oven and sat down at the kitchen table

to tell the story.

%rom the time you were a year old, you'd had your

eye on Onalee. She had a cloth body and porcelain head and

cried "Mama" when she was tipped over. Claribel was ten years

older, and even though she didn't play with dolls much any

more, she wasn't ready to give up that particular doll.

"Arleta's too little to have Onalee, Mama," Claribel said.

"She'll just tear her apart."

"Well, you certainly don't have to give her the doll," I said.

Mabel's sister, Violet, was born when Mabel was twenty, and wasjust afewyears older than Mabel's own daughter Alma. Alma's daughter, Arleta, spent

part ofher childhood in Grandma Mabel's care, and her Aunt Claribel

(Mabel's third child, ten years younger than Alma and ten years older than

Arleta) was like a big sister to the little girl.

59


"She has playthings of her own."

But Claribel was softhearted when it came to her only niece,

so she would occasionally let you hold Onalee—as long as she'

was there to keep a sharp eye on the scene.

One day shortly before Christmas, Claribel came in from

school and looked around the room.

"Where's Arleta?"

"In her room," I replied.

"She's still asleep this late?" Claribel asked.

"I don't think she's asleep," I said. "She's being punished. I

told her she could stay there until she was ready to say 'please'

when she asked for something."

"Can I try to get her to say it?"

"You can try. She got up this morning with a stubborn

streak."

Claribel went in to persuade you, but all her coaxing was to

no avail. When dinnertime came and you had not changed your

mind, Claribel became desperate. She made one more trip to

the bedroom and very shortly came back, leading you by the

hand.

"She's ready to say please, Mama."

You did so, and you were allowed back into the goodgraces of the family.

Aunt Violet drew Claribel aside. "However did you managethat?" she asked.

"I promised her she could have Onalee for Christmas,"

Claribel said. "She'll probably forget about it before then."

If anyone believed that, they were in for a surprise. Not

only did you remember, you made sure everyone else in the

house did, too.

"It's a good thing you didn't promise her that doll in June,"

Aunt Violet said. "I'd have moved out of here months ago."

On Christmas morning Onalee was turned over to you, and

from that moment the doll never left your sight. Onalee was

squeezed and pulled around the house by an arm or leg. Of

course it wasn't long before the poor doll began to separate at

the seams.

This was of no concern to you, but the rest of the family

soon tired of cleaning up the trail of white stuff that stuck to the

furniture and carpets. It was especially annoying to Aunt Violet,

60

Onalee

who followed you and Onalee around, picking at the chairs andrugs.

One day Aunt Violet reached the limits of her endurance.

"Just as soon as Arleta goes down for her nap," she

announced, "I'm going to get rid of that pesky doll. I'll just go

out and buy her another one."

True to her word, Aunt Violet removed Onalee from your

bed and proceeded to the basement to deposit the doll in the

furnace.

A short time later, Aunt Violet was observed with cotton

batting, needle and thread, and what appeared to be Onalee onher lap.

"I thought you were going to burn that doll," I said.

"So did I," Aunt Violet replied, "but when I went to toss her

into the furnace, she cried. I couldn't do it."

"So Onalee had a long, happy life,"

Grandma concluded. "It's no wonder

you y

ve always loved dolls so much. " She

smiledfondly at me. "It runs in the

family!"

61

FieldDay

Mabel tells ofa

Christmas adventure

with four-year-old

granddaughter

Arleta.

J~he Christmas of 1927 was very different indeed from

any I had ever known. Aside from the fact that it was the first

time Sarah Jane and I had not been together for at least part of

the day, Chicago was not at all like North Branch!

That big city was the last place I had ever expected to be,

but in November a letter had arrived from Alma.

Mama, do you think you could come and stay with

us? Harry and I are both so busy that we haven 't the time

to spend with Arleta. The housekeeper, Emma, is very

good to her, but now that Arleta is four, she should have

more personal attention. What she really needs is a

grandma.

63


So the week before Chris1*nas found me looking out over

Lake Michigan from the big apartment window.

"I'm glad to have water out here," I said to Alma. "It

reminds me of my Chippewa River, even if I can't see across it."

"You can hardly even see it this morning," she said. "The

sky and the lake are the same color."

She looked over my shoulder at the snow coming down.

"You aren't going to try to go out today, are you? It's going to

be awfully windy and cold."

"I grew up in more snow and cold than this, Alma, and so

did you," I told her. "I couldn't disappoint Arleta. She's looking

forward to seeing the decorations downtown."

"You've never gone around town by yourself, Mama. I'd

worry about you finding your way alone."

I assured her that we would stay in one place until they

came to pick us up.

"After all, how could we possibly get lost in Marshall

Field's?" I said. Then I laughed.

"What's so funny, Mama?"

"For a moment I thought I heard Sarah Jane saying, 'Be

careful, Mabel—you're tempting fate!' We learned never to say

'What could possibly happen?'"

It was decided that Arleta and I would go directly to the big

department store, and Harry would come to get us in the

afternoon. Alma wrapped her fur coat around her and pulled on

her gloves.

"If you're sure you'll be all right, then. . . . Have a nice time.

Let Emma call a cab for you, and Harry will pick you up at

three o'clock. And for goodness' sake, don't carry packages.

Have them sent out. Let someone do something for you for a

change."

She started for the door, then turned around again. "Are you

sure you don't want Emma to go with you?"

"Of course not. She has her work to do. Now go, and don't

worry about us."

I'll admit that I would have appreciated a familiar face whenthe cab driver set us down at the entrance to Marshall Field's. Afour year old is a lot of fun, but not much help in a crisis.

"Now don't let go of Grandma's hand," I warned her. "If

you get lost in all this mob, I'll never find you again."

~64~

Field Day

Cars whizzed by, and elevated trains clattered overhead.

People were clutching their coats to keep from having themwhipped off in the wind. I had to use both hands to open mypurse and pay the driver, and in that instant Arleta was gone! I

must have looked pretty frantic, because the driver quickly

reassured me.

"Don't worry, ma'am. She isn't going far."

He pointed at the big store window where Arleta stood with

her nose pressed against the glass.

"Oh, Grandma! Look! Here's Santa and all the elves," Arleta

squealed.

I was as fascinated by the scene as she was. Santa nodded

his head as he watched small hammers pounding, needle and

thread going in and out, toy dogs barking, and dolls dancing.

Little boy and girl mannequins skated around on a pond of ice.

It was too much to absorb all at once.

Finally I said, "We'd better go inside. It's getting colder. We'll

look again when we come out to wait for your father."

Arleta pushed into a space with me in the revolving door.

"I don't like this," she said. "I'm afraid it won't let me out."

I didn't admit that I wasn't comfortable with it either, but I

was glad that the doorman held the door for us when we got

inside.

The warm air felt good after the icy blast outdoors. Westopped to look around with awe at the gorgeous decorations

all over the store. The big tree that stood in the center of the

floor sparkled with silver and lights, and was decorated with

balls that glittered and shone.

My mind went back to a very different tree that once stood

in a little country schoolhouse.

Oh, look, Ma! isn't it beautiful? Ourgrade made thepaper

chains to put on it. Roy's grade did thepopcorn balls. Didyou

ever see a prettier tree?

A tug on my sleeve reminded me that Arleta was anxious to

start her shopping.

"First a present for Emma," she said. "Something red. That's

her favorite color."

After some discussion we selected a scarf and gloves, and

Arleta took the money from her little purse to pay for them.

65

Field Day

"Now we get to see the money fly," she informed me. Wewatched the clerk put the bill into a little cylindrical case, whichshe placed in a wire basket.

"There it goes!" The basket whizzed up to a room above the

main floor, where the change was put in the case and sent back

to our clerk.

Now that we had seen this wonder performed, it was time

to visit Santa.

"Toyland is on the third floor, madam," the floor walker

directed. He pointed the way to the escalator and elevator.

Arleta looked at me anxiously. "Do you want to go up the

escalator, Grandma?"

"I think I prefer the elevator," I replied, and by the relieved

look on her face, I knew I'd chosen wisely.

It took some persuasion to get Arleta on the back of the

pony to have her picture taken with Santa.

"He's not going to run away with you," I assured her. "I

used to ride ponies like this, and they are very gentle."

She consented to being lifted up, but I could tell that she

would be glad when she was safely on the floor again.

As I watched Santa talking to the apprehensive little girl, I

could hear another voice from the past.

"Haveyou been a good girl this year?"

I nodded, hoping that Santa Claus hadn Y heard about the

times I had been something less than perfect.

"Then there must be a package hereforyou.

"

I waited breathlessly until a gift wasplaced in my hands. Nomatter that Roy saidMa bought the gift. It camefrom Santa.

We looked at all of the toys in the department, and what a

wonderland it was! I could never have imagined having all

these things to play with. We lingered the longest at the display

of dolls.

"There's the one Santa will bring me." Arleta pointed to a

beautiful doll with long curls, real eyelashes, and eyes that

moved. "I'm going to call her Rosemary. Isn't that a pretty

name?"

I nodded, but I was back in our old kitchen.

An old rag doll, stuffed with popcorn, lay on the back ofthe

stove to dry out.

67


"I'm going to name her Charlotte, Ma. Don'tyou think that's

a pretty name?"

Did it matter whether it was Rosemary, with a twenty-five

dollar price tag, or Charlotte, rescued from a mud puddle, as

long as the small mother loved it?

"I'm hungry, Grandma."

"All right. Let's go wash up for lunch."

The ladies' lounge, with gleaming white tile, was decorated

for Christmas, too. A small tree stood in the corner, and colored

lights surrounded the mirrors. I chuckled to myself as I

searched in my bag for a nickel. Imagine paying to open the

bathroom door! I'm surprised one of my brothers didn't think of

that, if for no other reason than to torment his little sister!

It felt good to sit down in the tea room. I realized that I wasgetting hungry, too.

"I want a peanut butter sandwich," Arleta announced.

I scanned the menu. "I don't see any peanut butter here.

Wouldn't a nice chicken salad taste good?"

The additional promise of ice cream for dessert brought a

reluctant agreement, and we settled back to eating lunch.

"Will we finish shopping after we eat, Grandma?"

"Yes," I replied. "We need to find something nice for your

mother and daddy."

"And for you, Grandma! Something for you. You'll have to

turn around while I buy it, so it will be a surprise."

By the time we had finished our shopping I was thankful

that Alma had insisted that I have the packages sent home.

When it was almost three o'clock, we started back to the door

to wait for Harry.

"Grandma," Arleta reminded me, "you said we could see the

window again when we came back out. Can we go look until

Daddy comes?"

I had promised, all right, so we went out the big doors onto

the cold, windy street. It was still noisy and windy and cold, but

as far as I could see, that was all that was the same. There was

no toyland in the window, no mannequins skating, no Santa

"ho-ho-" ing.

"Grandma, this isn't the window we saw before."

"I see that," I said.

68

Field Day

"What happened to it?" Arleta asked.

"I'm sure it's right where it was this morning," I told her.

"We are the ones who are in the wrong place. We'd better go

back in and find out where we are."

The doorman was most helpful. "Yes, ma'am. There is an

entrance on Madison. You are at the State Street entrance."

He pointed us in the right direction, and I hurried off across

the store. By now it was past three o'clock, and I was afraid wehad missed Harry.

"Daddy will find us," Arleta assured me. "We can look at the

toy window while we wait."

Looking up and down the busy street, I wasn't too sure

about that. The cab had let us off at the store, but how did I

know which was considered the "front" entrance?

Somewhere I've heard that if you stand in one place long

enough, everyone you've ever known will pass by. When four

o'clock came and went, I had seen hundreds of people, none of

whom had gone by before, as far as I could tell. We had gone

around in the revolving door so often that the doorman seemed

like an old friend. Finally he had a suggestion.

"Madam, let me get a cab for you. Go on back home. Your

son-in-law will check for you there, I'm sure."

This seemed to be a sensible solution. It was after dark

when we arrived back at the apartment, and Alma was pacing

the floor.

"Mama! Where on earth have you been? Did you get lost?"

"Of course not," I said. "I knew right where we were. I just

didn't know where Harry was."

Alma helped me out of my coat and boots, and Emma took

Arleta off to be fed and put to bed.

"Harry came home at three-thirty. He waited at the entrance

for twenty minutes, then decided you'd gotten tired and taken a

cab home. When he didn't find you here, he went right back to

look for you. He's called every fifteen minutes to see if I've

heard from you."

"Oh, my, what a bother," I said. "I just didn't know that the

store had two front doors. We were standing at one of them

while Harry was at the other."

Alma and Harry were so relieved to have us home safely

69


that neither one of them thought to ask me why I hadn't called

home. So I didn't have to tell them that I'd never used a

telephone that didn't have an operator to talk to. As I wrote a

letter to Sarah Jane that evening, I thought of the many holidays

we had spent together over the years.

/ suppose I would get used to all this if I lived in the

city long enough, but I believe Xorth Branch is more to

my liking. I know I shall miss you and Thomas onChristmas Day.

Give my love to yourfamily, and rest assured that the

big city has not changed your oldfriend. My hean is still

in the country and, I suspect, always will be. . . .

70

AuntBeat's

ForgottenChristmas

Xhere are two days of the year that no one ever

forgets—her birthday and Christmas. Right? If you think so, youreckon without my great-aunt Beat.

I suppose every family has at least one eccentric member.

Without question, Grandma's brother's widow was ours. Aunt

Beat was fiercely independent. Although she happily joined the

family for holidays and parties, she lived alone. Her son insisted

that she install a telephone, but she usually refused to answer it.

He provided electricity, which she also ignored. Since she no

longer kept a horse, she walked wherever she wanted to go.

My Uncle Roy was openly annoyed with Aunt Beatrice.

Grandma was more tolerant. Aunt Violet allowed as how she

just might get that way herself if she lived long enough. (She

did.) But to me, Aunt Beat was a continuing wonder.

71


Christmas was Aunt Beat's favorite holiday. Back in the days

when one never saw a decorated tree until Christmas morning,

Aunt Beat began celebrating the occasion months ahead of

time. Suddenly, without any advance notice, she would shout,

"Do you know how many days are left until Christmas?"

If I happened to be the one she asked, along about the

middle of May, I always had to confess that I had absolutely noidea.

"I'm not surprised, Arleta," she would say. "Just like your

grandmother. Always have your face in a book. You need to

keep up with these things."

So no one was prepared for what happened the Christmas I

was ten.

After the church service on this particular Christmas Eve,

Grandma suggested that Beatrice stay overnight with us. "So wecan get a nice early start in the morning," Grandma explained.

To no one's surprise, the offer was refused.

"Can't do that. Have chores to do and pies to bake yet

tonight. I'll be there before daylight tomorrow."

"You can count on that," Uncle Roy muttered. "Sure as

death and taxes."

Christmas morning came, and I was allowed out of bed as

soon as the kitchen was warm. Grandma and my Uncle Roy's

wife, Aunt Celia, were the only ones about.

"Where's Aunt Beat?" I asked.

"It's early yet," Grandma replied. "She'll be along directly."

Uncle Roy came in. "It's almost six o'clock. Where's the

Christmas trumpet?"

"We'll go ahead and start breakfast," Aunt Celia said,

ignoring the comment. "She'll be here any minute."

According to our custom, I could open stocking gifts right

away, but the other presents had to wait until after breakfast.

When Aunt Beat failed to appear while we ate, I began to

suspect that things might be delayed even longer, and I kept a

watchful eye on the door. Grandma, too, made several trips to

the window, although it was still too dark to see past the porch.

"I can't imagine what's keeping her," Grandma said. "Do

you think we'd better call?"

Uncle Roy calmly proceeded with his breakfast.

"Save your strength. Even if she weren't as deaf as a

72

Aunt Beats Forgotten Christmas

doorknob, she'd still be too stubborn to answer the telephone.

Beatrice dances to her own music."

We all knew this was true; nevertheless, when Aunt Beat

had not come by the time breakfast was cleared away, AuntViolet roused Flora, the town watchperson and telephone

operator.

"Flora, is there any light at Beat's house?"

There was a pause while Flora went to look.

"Then ring her for me, will you, please?"

Another long pause.

"Well, all right. I know she doesn't, but try every once in a

while anyway, and let us know if you get her."

The morning wore on, and the ladies began preparations

for Christmas dinner. I played a half-hearted game of checkers

with Uncle Roy. He wasn't about to admit it, but he wasgrowing increasingly uneasy himself.

"Mabel," he called at last. "This child is beginning to look

pathetic. At least let her open a couple of packages. Whoknows when that woman will get here?"

At that moment the telephone rang, and Uncle Roy leaped

to get it. It was Flora.

"Lettie says that Jake thinks he saw Beat's boy's car out here

this morning," she reported. "So she guesses that like as not he

took his mother with him."

"I doubt that," Aunt Celia said when the news was passed

on to us. "It's not like Beatrice to go off without letting us

know."

"Hah!" Uncle Roy snorted. "Sounds just like something she'd

do, if you ask me."

"Well, I'm not easy in my mind," Aunt Celia insisted. "I'd

feel better if you just went on over there and checked out the

house."

Uncle Roy grumbled as he buckled on his galoshes and

wrapped his scarf around his neck. Since it looked like neither

presents nor dinner would be forthcoming until the matter was

settled, I bundled up and went with him.

I sat in the old car while Uncle Roy thrashed the front door,

the back door, and all the windows he could reach. After a

couple of turns around the house, he came back to the car.

73

Aunt Beat's Forgotten Christmas

"I told Celia this would be a fool trip. She's gone, all right."

The rest of the day passed uneventfully, and everyone

agreed that an early bedtime was in order. Uncle Roy bankedthe fires, Aunt Celia said again what a pity it was that Beatrice

hadn't been with us, and we retired.

It must have been close to three o'clock in the morning

when a dreadful battering began on the front door. Uncle Roy's

voice rose above the din.

"What in thunder is that? Who's there? Hold on. Don't bust

the house down."

All the rest of us gathered on the steps as Uncle Roy flung

open the door. Aunt Beat sailed in, her arms full of packages

with a pie balanced on top. She stopped and eyed Uncle Roy

with surprise.

"You still standing around here in your nightshirt?" she

boomed. "I told you I'd be here before daylight."

She bustled off toward the kitchen, and her voice wafted

back to us.

"Looks like I'll have to get the breakfast started while you

get dressed. Can't imagine you oversleeping on Christmas Day.

I worked late last night, and I managed to get around this

morning."

We looked at each other in disbelief. Even Uncle Roy was

speechless.

"She thinks today is Christmas," Grandma said. "Where in

the world has she been?"

"I know where she is headed," Uncle Roy stated ominously.

"Doesn't that confounded woman have a clock in her house?

I'm going back to bed."

"You can't, Roy. Beatrice hasn't had any Christmas yet. We'll

have to get dressed and come down and eat breakfast." Aunt

Celia marched back up the stairs, and the rest of us followed.

"You mean we have to fix another Christmas dinner?" Aunt

Violet asked. "And how are you going to break the news that

we already opened our gifts without her?"

Of course no one had the answer to that. We dressed and

sat down to breakfast, and as tactfully as possible, Grandma

asked Aunt Beat where she'd been since the Christmas Eve

service.

75


'Why. home in bed. of course. Where else would decent

people be?"

"You mean you slept all day Christmas, Aunt Beat?" I asked.

"Certainly not!" she replied indignantly. "Why would I do a

thing like that? Taint even daylight yet. I was up before any of

you were."

Uncle Roy pushed his chair back.

"Well, ladies." he said cheerfully, T leave you to sort this

one through. I'm going to stretch out on the sofa and catch a

few more winks. Call me when it's time to open the presents."

He grinned broadly and disappeared.

It took some doing, but Aunt Beat finally admitted that she

had been pretty tired, and that she might have slept through the

day if she had been lying on her good ear . . . but she denied

to her last breath that she had ever forgotten Christmas Day.

76

Grandma'sChristmasCake

arne of the yearly customs in Grandma's house wasthe baking of the Christmas cake. This was a family affair, since

everyone helped to crack and pick out the black walnuts. Thechildren wTapped the coins that were folded into the batter at

the last minute, to be discovered in nearly every piece of cake

on Christmas Day and exchanged for candy or a small toy from

the tree. (The coins were then put into a bank to be saved or

spent later.)

The children were also allowed to arrange the gum drops

on top of the cake in any way they chose, so the cake was

decorated differently each year. I recall thumb prints that broke

through the crispy top of the icing, but even with these—or

perhaps because of them

—

the Christmas cake was the most

beautiful creation of the year!

77

GRANDMA'S CHRISTMAS CAKE

3 cups sugar

1 cup butter

2 cups milk

5 cups cakeflour

1 teaspoon vanilla

4 teaspoons bakingpowder1/4 teaspoon salt

6 egg whites, beaten

2 cups cranberries, chopped

1 cup citron, chopped

1 cup black walnuts, chopped

coins wrapped in oiledpaper

Beat the butter and sugar until very light and creamy. Addthe milk alternately with four cups of the flour. Add vanilla and

beat thoroughly. Sift baking powder and salt into the last cup of

flour; add to batter. Add the well-beaten egg whites. Carefully

fold in the cranberries, citron, black walnuts, and coins.

Bake about forty minutes in three 9-inch layers. This will

make a large cake. Frost with boiled icing.

BOILED ICING

1 1/2 cups sugar

1/2 teaspoon light corn syrup

2/3 cup boiling water

2 egg whites, stiffly beaten

1 teaspoon vanilla

Combine sugar, corn syrup, and water. Bring quickly to a

boil, stirring only until sugar is dissolved. Boil rapidly, without

stirring, until small amount of syrup forms a soft ball in cold

water. Pour syrup in fine stream over egg whites, beating

constantly. Add vanilla. Continue beating 10 to 15 minutes, or

until icing is cool and of right consistency to spread.

Frost cold cake and decorate with red and green gumdrops.

Ask for these Grandma's Attic Series

titles from Chariot Books

In Grandma 's Attic

More Storiesfrom Grandma's Attic

Still More Storiesfrom Grandma 's Attic

Treasuresfrom Grandma

Sixteen andAwayfrom HomeEighteen and On Her Own

Nineteen and Wedding Bells Ahead

At Home in North Branch

New Faces, New Friends

Storiesfrom the Growing Years

The Grandma 's Attic Storybook

The Grandma's Attic Cookbook


grandma's QRmic

Arleta Richardson

-^

Turn the Christmas carols on low, settle downin front of the fireplace, and share the wonder of

long ago Christmases with your children throughChristmas Storiesfrom Grandma's Attic.

Step into Christmas past and share the sights,

sounds, and stories of bygone days. There is

something comforting about these old-fashioned

stories that capture the kind of moments that

make Christmas live forever in our memoriesand exude a spirit of love, good will, and peaceon earth.

Arleta Richardson is the author of thepopularGrandma's Attic series, a favorite with both

children and adults. Here she recalls her ownChristmas memories as well as those based on the

stories hergrandmother told her.

@ ISBN D-7am-0MQ-2Chariot BooksA Division of Cook Communications

Value: Christmas

IL: Family 780781 "400909

christmas stories from grandma's attic

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